


A Light in the Dark

by Lyadryn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fantasy AU, Knights and Magicians, dark!characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyadryn/pseuds/Lyadryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knights and Wizards Fantasy AU.</p>
<p>Marco is chosen to be Jeans Knight at the tournament, however after a moment of hesitation in the final battle Marco finds himself fighting for the side of darkness under the evil king. Will Jean be able to overcome Marcos loss and rule his kingdom, or will darkness take him too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write the SnK guys as RPG style evil/good. So here it is.

Marco had killed before. This feeling wasn’t anything new to him. The feeling of the adrenaline rushing through his veins, blood oozing down his temple, hands firmly gripping the handle of his sword as he swings it above his head for one last deadly blow. His pulse, thrumming through his mind, as he lifts his arms higher, his metal armor scraping along the joints to accommodate the movement.

That was when the cheering started. The beating of his pulse drowned out by screams and cheers, both filled with the horror and glee he could feel reverberating around the arena, and the inside of his helmet, from the audience. No, this wasn’t a new feeling.

He glanced his eyes down at the woman lying beneath one of his boots. She had put up a good fight, and wasn’t about to give up. He held his sword up and stared back down into her stormy grey eyes. Her gaze was unwavering as one hand made its way onto his boot, pushing off her rib-cage, her other arm stretching out to her side, towards her sword. Her fingers scrambled in the blood caked dirt, digging tiny ruts as she stretched and clawed even further in one last attempt to recover her weapon.

Marco pressed down, putting more weight onto her rib-cage, a disgusting cracking was audible underneath her shattered breastplate, he saw her wince. He didn’t see her fingers wrap around the hilt of her sword.

_A moment of hesitation is all it takes_ , he remembers his drill sergeant saying. _Don’t hesitate to make the final blow._

_You have to win_ , his prince had said to him before the competition, his soft hands cradling Marcos face before leaving a chaste kiss at the corner of his lips.

Marco glanced around the stands in front of him. His eyes met with the tawny eyes he had been searching for. There was fear, panic and worry in the princes eyes as his gaze locked onto Marcos. The prince nodded once, urging him on.

He glanced back down at the woman on the floor, her blonde hair, now untied and spread out behind her head like a blood soaked halo. He saw her eyes glazing over, and the hand on his foot go limp. He was still holding his sword above his head, how much time had passed?

Marco hesitated.

The crowd went silent. The world went red. Pain shot through his body. He gagged on the air in his lungs. A silence fell over the arena, the steady beating of the banners in the wind the only noise that could be heard. Even the birds had stopped.

“Annie..” Marco choked on his own blood, as he looked back down at the woman on the floor. She wore a grim smile on her face as she stared at his abdomen. He followed her gaze, across her shoulder, along her arm where her hand and sword met; the sword hilt almost meeting with his armor, the blade piercing straight through him in the tiny gap between his breastplate and leg greaves that appeared when he lifted both his arms above his head. He had hesitated.

“Come with me, Marco.” She spoke softly, her voice almost angelic compared to the pain searing through his veins. One of his gloved hands left the hilt of his sword, to grab the blade of Annies, the murmuring in the stands becoming louder and louder, his pulse also getting louder. And slower.

Annie pulled her sword out, the noise of ripping flesh and the squelching of blood and tissue too loud for Marco for comprehend. His senses were in overdrive. He glanced at the stands, the prince was standing up, leaning on the barrier, his eyes wide and full of fear. Marco managed a strained smile in his direction before mustering the strength to plunge his sword down into Annies stomach. Her already damaged breastplate shattered into several pieces, the black armor covered in a metallic sheen of blood; the crest broken.

“ANNIE!” A loud voice boomed from behind him, he could hear booted footsteps running across the dirt towards the two of them in the centre of the ring.

Marco pulled his sword out, and collapsed to his knees, wheezing. He leant on his sword for support, watching the dirt beneath him turn a sickly red, then black. The metallic smell assaulting his nostrils. His eyes squeezed closed with the pain, all he could see was red, even in the dark. He fell forward onto his hands, his entire body beginning to shake with the blood loss. The metal of his sword clanging onto the ground beside him.

And he collapsed, fighting the urge to lose consciousness, he forced his eyes open. He could see several pairs of boots surrounding him, several voices shouting commands, one voice in particular calling out to him.

“Marco, Marco,” He felt hands on him. He was gently rolled onto his back, his head placed onto something soft. “Why didn’t you yield?” The familiar voice was right above him now.

“Jean…” He breathed out, blood no longer making its way into his mouth, instead leaving his body through the holes Annie had given him.

The tawny eyes appeared directly above his, a cold, hard stare fixed upon his face. Marco could make out the tear tracks on Jeans face as he leant his forehead on Marcos.

“Why? You idiot,” Jean hiccuped, cradling Marcos face in his hands, just like he’d done before the fight. “Hold on, ok?” His voice was full of hope, Marco forced his lips to twitch, into anything other than the grimace he was currently wearing.

Marco knew it wouldn’t be okay, the hope that filled Jeans voice was a direct opposite of the blood now soaking into Jeans clothes as he knelt over him.

“Sorry” Marco breathed out, savoring the warmth from Jeans hands, his body going cold. His eyes closed against his will as he clung to consciousness for one last time.

“Marco? Marco? Don’t leave me” The last words he heard were accompanied by something warm dripping onto his cheeks before he fell into the void.

Marco had killed before, that wasn’t the new feeling.

Marco had never been killed before. That was new.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little background into the events leading up to the present, and the introduction of some other characters!

Marco started awake. A cold sweat running down the back of his neck. Sitting up slowly, he rubbed the faded scar on this stomach that mimicked the one from his dream. He took a deep breath and looked out of the window. The sun wasn’t above the horizon yet, the white moon still casting a pale, milky light into the room.

He had no idea how long it had been since he started having that dream. He just wished it would stop plaguing his nightly routine. Dreams had started happening roughly two years ago, when his magic had been unblocked. Everyone had a base level of latent magical ability, but only those with larger sources of power had it unblocked in order to be put through training. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Marco climbed out of bed and got dressed. Today was the day of his trial. He had been training for three years, mastering the dark, northern magics so that he could finally wear the prestigious, black cape of the kingsguard.

The hearth in his room had long gone out, the smoking embers no longer providing heat, and instead threatening to blow everywhere at the slightest hint of a breeze. Hissing slightly as his feet came into contact with the cold stones of the floor, he rummaged through his dresser and pulled on his undershirt and leggings. The heavy oak door creaked as he stepped out into the black hallway. The corridor had no windows on this side of the castle, keeping it dark all day, apart from the eternally burning torches that marked where each of the rooms were, sending eerie purple light around the enclosed space.

He scanned up and down the corridor before seeing a figure walking towards him. Booted footsteps echoing around the stone walls.

“Morning Marco.” The figure said, as it came into view of the torch outside his room. The taller man stopped outside his door with a smile, “Ready for your trial?”

“As I’ll ever be. Have you seen my squire?” Marco looked up the hallway again with a slight frown on his face This wasn’t the first time his squire hadn’t been there to wake up him on an important day. “Can I borrow yours?” He flashed the man a cheeky grin.

The taller man laughed, and looked behind him at the smaller figure hiding in his shadow. “Go ahead. I have some preparations to make, see you downstairs.”

“Thanks Bertl.” Marco smiled as the taller man continued walking down the hall, his black cape swirling in his wake.

Marco glanced at the boy who had been left behind, then gestured to his room. “I just need to get dressed.” The boy simply nodded and scampered inside.

It hadn’t taken Marco long to get used to being dressed and fed every morning. He didn’t remember anything from before he arrived here in the icy barren wastes of Sina. After three years of grueling training and trials, he had been accepted into the upper circle of Knights, directly serving the king but working in the main army, thus gaining his own squire in the keep.

“It’s in the cupboard,” Marco pointed at a large, dark wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room. The doors were ornately carved with roses, some red wood embedded into the carvings. The squire moved to get Marcos armor out while he stood in the centre of the room, while Marco lit some candles. A warm light slowly seeped into the room, taking the chill off the morning.

“Been with Bertl long?” Marco attempted to make some kind of conversation as the boy tied up the straps and buckles around his arms and legs.

“Three years, my lord,” he reached round and picked up the black breastplate, “Same as yours, I reckon.”

Marco hummed and nodded, he knew a fair amount about the other knights in the Kingsguard. Bertl, Reiner, Annie, Levi and Ymir had been fighting for the King since before his coronation, five years ago.  

Sina had become a rich and prosperous nation under King Armin, the hostile lands making it near impossible to farm, until magic was introduced. The Northern Magics, as they had become known, were said to have been a gift from the dragons upon his coronation. Even though no one had seen a dragon in centuries.

Marco blinked at the thought, an image from one of the banners in his dream. A black dragon on a white flag. He looked down at the crest on his armor, the same dragon now adorned on his chest, engraved into the metal by the castle smiths. The squire motioned for him to turn around, holding a swathe of blue fabric in his hands. With any luck, today would be the last day he ever had to wear a blue cloak.

Fully dressed, Marco strapped his sword around his waist and looked into the full length mirror.

“Good luck today,” the squire spoke, “None of us know how you got here, but we reckon its a sign.” The boy tapped his hands together, mimicking a magical posture for fortitude spells and bowing before leaving the room.

Marco stood in front of the mirror for a long time, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his gaze on the unique and ornate decorations on the scabbard.

-

_Three years ago he had woken up, bleeding out slowly in a dark alley, with nothing but the threadbare clothes he was wearing and his sword. Bertl and Reiner hadn’t been the first to find him, and were about to leave him for dead until they saw his sword. He remembered Reiner picking him up off the ground before he blacked out. He woke up several days later in the castle with his wounds completely healed._

_Annie had been the one to heal him. She was a black magician, the best in Sina. A force to be reckoned with in battle but also an extremely talented healer. She had looked after him for the first two weeks until he was summoned to the keep to meet the king and his council._

_Marco had walked with Annie to the gates, where Reiner and Bertl had met him. The two of them looked impressive, their black capes swirling in the icy wind, the metal of their black amor tinted white with ice. Their eyes almost seemed to glow an eerie gray in the late afternoon light. They had escorted him to the hall and left him standing in the middle of the room, facing a long table. Behind the table was the throne, and sitting there was the King._

_Like all of the metal work in Sina, Armins crown was cast from the darkest metal, but unlike the armor of the kingsguard it hadn’t been polished. No light reflected off the spikes atop his head. It gave off a feeling that the light was being sucked in instead._

_“Thank you for joining us today, Marco.” Armin had said, standing from throne and taking a couple of steps forward until he reached the table._

_“The rest of you can leave,” he lifted his arm up and signalled for the other council members to leave. Only the Kingsguard remained. Armin sat down in the middle of the table, to his right was Annie, then Bertl. To his left, Reiner, Levi and Ymir. They all sat down, following the king._

_“I have a proposition for you.” Armin placed his elbows on the table, and laced his hands together, a dark grin forming on his small, pale face. His brilliant blue eyes flashed with an excitement Marco didn’t understand._

_“Work for me. Undertake your training and join my Kingsguard.”_

_The whole room was silent, and cold. Marco had been given some warmer clothes by Annie but he could feel an unnatural chill in the air, seeping its way into his bones. He suppressed a shiver and looked over at Annie whose icey blue irises simply stared back while remaining silent._

_He looked back at Armin and took a step forward. “Why me?” His voice trembled slightly from the cold and the start of a deep rooted fear as six sets of seemingly spectral eyes stared him down._

_Armin stood up and silently moved around the table until he was standing in front of Marco. He was shorter than Marco, just coming up to his shoulder, but he had a massive presence. Armin smiled, his face warming up momentarily._

_“Marco, Marco, Marco,” Armin started to walk slow circles around Marco, who was now visibly shivering from the cold._

_“You have a lot of questions. Why are you here? Where did you come from? Why should I offer you anything?”_

_Armin looked Marco in the eye, “Why did I send my best soldiers out to pick you up from an alley when I could have just left you to die?”_

_After 3 more paces, Armin came to a stop behind Marco. Marco looked down, there was ice creeping along the floor from Armins position, icy footprints stood out on the stone floor all the way back to his throne. The ice was slowly creeping over the thick, leather shoes Marco had been given to wear, icy veins creeping up towards his ankles, up over his shins. He felt rooted in place and his eyes widened in a moment of fear._

_Marco felt the cold edge of a sword run along his neck, then the warmth of breath by his ear._

_“I know where you got your sword.”_

-

“Hello? Marco?” A hand touched his shoulder and he snapped back to the present, his hand automatically gripping the hilt of his sword as he spun around. Reiner was standing behind him, looking slightly startled at Marcos overreaction to his presence.

“Everyone is waiting downstairs for you,” He steered Marcos shoulder around so that he was facing the door, “What happened in here? Where’s your squire?”

Marco shrugged, “No idea. Perhaps he ditched me, stole my gold and ran for the hills.” Marco let out a weary chuckle, his room wasn’t untidy but it was dark, a handful of candles were lit and left messily on the surfaces, the hearth was cold, and there was bedding and clothes scattered around.

Reiner let out a boisterous laugh, “Come on, lets eat. I’ll make sure this is tidy for when you get back.” He clapped Marco on the back as they made their way to the banquet hall for breakfast.

 

* * *

 

 

Jean sat on his throne in the warm hall, flaming grates warming up the intricately carved masonry. He was brooding as he ignored what the Kings Council was talking about around him. Important matters of state, ambassadorial visits from the Magicians Isles, imminent threats from the North, he cared for none of it today.

“Jean,” A pair of turquoise eyes appeared in front of his face, giving him a cold, hard stare. “You are required to either attend this meeting, or postpone it until you are feeling better. Make a choice.”

Eren had been a Knight of the Realm since he turned 18. He had known Jean as a child, the two of them growing up in court together under the watchful eye of their parents.

Jean sighed, “Postpone it, I’m done for the day.” He stood up and strode out of the room leaving everyone sitting in a stunned silence.

“Tomorrow, then.” Eren followed Jean, leaving the other Knights and council members to tidy up the mass of papers that had been spread over the table.

“Jean, wait” Eren grabbed the kings arm, and pulled him to a stop in the hallway. “Whats the matter with you today?”

“Don’t be so familiar in public, Eren.” Jean shrugged out of Erens grip, and took a couple of steps away from him. “You know what today is.”

He glanced at Eren, his tawny eyes darkened by emotions and tiredness. “Outside.” Eren simply followed, servants bowed and greeted them as they passed through the busy rooms towards the gardens. Jean didn’t stop until he reached a grove of trees, where he sat down on a stone bench in the middle. Eren sat next to him, adjusting his armor and sword so that he could sit comfortably.

“Three years, Eren. Three. Years.” Jeans hands started to tremble, he clasped one fist in another, knuckles going white. “Where is he?”

“I.. I don’t know.” Erens voice was soft. He should have remembered that today would be a bad day for Jean. Perhaps he should have left him asleep this morning.

“I’m the most powerful man in the Southern Isles, I have had my spies searching for three years and we have nothing. I infiltrated the homes and castles of my allies incase they were lying to me.” Jean took a deep breath, “Three years and all I have are the remnants of a magical portal, and a stupid dragons claw.” He almost spat the last words out in anger.

Eren put a hand on Jeans back and breathed out heavily. The two sat in companionable silence as the world continued around them. Jean was the first to break the silence, shifting from his chair to reach up and stretch.

“I should probably look over the papers from today's meeting.” He took a step forward but stopped. His lips pursed together, eyes narrowed in thought. “Sina was mentioned this morning?” Jean quickly spun around and grabbed Erens shoulders.

“I, uh.. Yeah.” He blinked several times while he regained his balance. “Yeah.”

“Well?” Jean didn’t let go of his shoulders.

“A couple of northern fishing ships were spotted in the Hermina. Wrecked with no survivors, obviously. But they were wrecked on the southern side.”

Jean nodded. Hermina was an area of ocean mountains, and sharp rocks that stuck out of the ocean, conveniently separating the North and South. Jean had ensured he had control of it, his navy having calculated safe routes through the rocky spires should he ever need to sail north.

“Southern side?” Jean repeated. His hands slipping from Erens shoulders. That could mean only one thing.

“Someone navigated through. We don’t know who, no bodies were found. However…” Eren paused, and looked down at his boots. He let out a deep breath, “Its the same, Jean. Portal dust was found on one of the decks. We sent it over with Hanji, its the same.”

Jean took a step back and closed his eyes. This was the closest he had come to finding out who had taken Marco from his sickbed three years ago.

-

_“How is he doing?” Jean asked the magician who was watching over Marco._

_The magician shook her head, her short red hair flicking from side to side. “We’re still trying to identify the poison. Without the blade it might take another couple of days.” She bowed her head down slightly as she wiped the sweat off Marcos brow._

_Jean sat down in the chair next to the bed, taking one of Marcos hand in his. Marco was drifting in and out of consciousness between what everyone assumed were nightmares. His shouting being the main reason Jean was reluctant to leave his side._

_“I’ll be back shortly. You should consider getting some sleep as well.” The magician started to walk out of the room, taking a couple of empty vials with her._

_“Thank you, Petra.” She nodded back at Jean as she left._

_Marco was asleep again, leaving Jean to his thoughts. Jean must have fallen asleep, it was dark when he was awoken by a hand on his shoulder._

_“Your Majesty, a moment?” The leader of the magician clans smiled a weary smile at Jean._

_The two stepped outside and shut the door behind them. There were two other magicians outside in the hall, both with solemn looks on their faces._

_“I believe you have met Hanji and Mike. They have been researching the poison for us.” Erwin stopped smiling while he was talking, his face becoming sullen. Jeans eyes widened slightly, and he felt his heartbeat speed up._

_“What is it?” Jean asked, looking at all three of them. A moment of silence passed, interrupted by Petra coming around the corner with some more antidotes. She snuck around the group quietly just as Erwin opened his mouth to speak._

_“Sorry, did you lock this?” She smiled sweetly up at Jean and Erwin. Her hand was on the handle, but it wouldn’t move. Before Erwin had a chance to react, Jean shot towards the door, hands working frantically at the handle. The door hadn’t been locked, not by anyone on the outside._

_“MARCO!” Jean started banging on the door,  “MARCO? MARCO?”_

_Hanji pulled Jean out of the way, and Erwin held up his hand in the direction of the door. The lock clicked open with a flash and Erwin pushed the door open very slightly. An icy gust of wind blew through the corridor, causing the group outside to shelter their faces from the blast._

_Jean managed to break free from Hanjis grip, pushing Erwin out of the way from behind and ran through the door. The bed was empty, the window was closed. Deadbolted on the inside. His gaze was quickly dragged to the far corner, where a swirling mass of visible magical energy was starting to dissipate._   
_“Jean, wait!” Erwin moved quickly, reaching out and grabbing the back of Jeans clothes just in time to pull him back as the swirling vortex exploded into a cloud of dust. A dragons claw falling from the centre, clattering to the floor in the middle._

_“No, no, no.” Jean fell to his knees, his hands shaking, his breathing became laboured._

_“Mike, check those samples. Hanji, trace it.” Erwin ordered as he crouched next to the King._

_The two magicians stepped around him, he could feel the use of magic affecting the air around him while they carried out their tasks._

_It didn’t matter to him though. Marco was gone._

-

Jean  re-opened his eyes to see Eren staring calmly at him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an obsidian black dragons claw. Turning it over in his hands a few times, the sharp point dragged across his skin, the slight pain keeping him grounded.

“We’re going North.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Mornin’ Marco,” Ymir greeted, her mouth full of food from the plate piled high in front of her.

“Morning.” Marco replied, taking the seat next to her at the long table in the corner of the mess hall. The oak was old and well used, each dent and scratch having a tale to tell. Once sitting, one of the servants came out with a plate piled high with meat and eggs. Today was a banquet day in order to celebrate his promotion.  The king rarely ate in the mess hall, along with the kingsguard who normally ate in their own private hall, but Berthold had suggested it at the preparation meeting a week prior.

* * *

 

_“Perhaps we can use the trial as a way to boost morale,” Berthold had started, the meeting had been dragging and everyone involved was becoming too tired to solve any of the issues put before them. “The men are tired, the winter has been long and dark and while your campaigns have been successful, exhaustion is starting to become apparent. Especially in the lower ranks.”_

_All of the Kingsguard were Captains in King Armins’ army. Leading the their squad leaders in the areas of combat in which they excelled. Berthold and Reiner had the lesser magical ability, and lead the non-magical units of the army. Levi, who would be joined by Marco if he passed, lead the combined force of those with magical ability who also had the agility to combine it with a weapon. Annie and Ymir were in charge of the sorcerers, those who wielded only magic._

_“Agreed,” Levi nodded slightly, his facial expression not shifting to give indication of what he was or was not thinking. “Turn his trial into an event. Chuck some fancy food around, invite everyone to the event. Give them a day off.” He reached forward and scratched at his knee, his legs up on the table in front of him._

_Armin nodded and looked towards Marco, who had been invited to sit in on his first meeting. “What do you think, Marco?” Armin sat up in his chair slightly, sitting directly opposite Marco across the round table._

_“I...uh…” Marco cleared his throat, “I think it’s a good idea to give the men a day off. Many of the men from my squad have said how excited they are to watch me fight the rest of you here, so…” he trailed off, feeling everyones eyes boring into him._

_“So?” Armin prompted._

_“So, it would be a good excuse for everyone to relax, eat some good food. Porridge and salted meat gets a little tedious,” Marco reached up and scratched at his nose nervously, “And it would be nice to have my old squad there to cheer me on.”_

_Reiner let out a laugh. “Not nervous are you, Bodt?” he questioned, reaching out and heartily slapping Marco on the shoulder, “You already beat both Berthold and I on a daily basis without magic.”_

_Berthold smiled and nodded at Marco who was sheepishly looking around the table at those he would call his friends, if he passed. The was no penalty for failure, because failure meant dying in the arena._

_Annie stood up, sweeping a pile of papers into her hands before shuffling them into order, “Then, are we in agreement? Berthold will make arrangements for a day of holiday, Reiner will talk to the servants about the banquet. And Marco, invite your squad.” She didn’t smile, but her voice was tender towards the end._

_Everyone at the table nodded, looking around at each other. Armin smiled at Marco before standing up, “I’ll see you all tomorrow,” he nodded before leaving the room, being followed by Annie._

* * *

 

Marco choked on his bacon as he recalled the memory of Annie following Armin out of the meeting room that day, and the looks that had passed between the remaining Kingsguard.

“You okay there?” Berthold sat down opposite him, smiling.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” Marco took a drink of his wine, being careful not to get too intoxicated before his trial this lunch time. Reiner soon joined them at the table, and the four sat in companionable conversation, interrupted every so often by soldiers coming over to wish Marco luck.

“Sounds like it will be a full house, lucky you.” Ymir smirked. “It’s been a while since the arena was used, let alone full.”

King Armin had built an arena on the outskirts of of the city, with the initial purpose of providing a safe place to practice magic. After several illegal duels between knights in the streets of the city, the arena was opened up as a tournament ground. Like everything else in Sina, the stones were tall, black and impending; gargoyles and dragons stood carved into the rafters, keeping an eternal watch over the proceedings below. The stone structure showed no signs of aging, the weather in Sina cold enough to shatter even the best masonry during the winter. No buildings had collapsed in the capital, Stohess, for the past five years.

The banquet hall slowly emptied, as soldiers came and went, presumably to make use of their day off. Berthold started to go over the proceedings for todays trial, going over every detail, making sure that Marco understood what he had to do, and what not to do. The magic restrictions of the kingsguard would all be removed for the duration of the trial, making magical attacks deadly if not deflected or defended against properly. Ymir nudged Marco and grinned at him. They had been talking for a few hours, Ymir explaining how the first couple of rounds would be fought against summoned monsters, before Reiner took over and explained the final round.

Marco swallowed hard, pushing the nerves back as he saw Levi enter the room. Sharp grey eyes scanning the crowd of people before settling on Marco. Levi strode over.

“Oi, Marco.” Levi stood at the end of the table, palms flat, leaning forward, “Its time for your magic restriction to be removed.” Before Marco could say or do anything, Levi was already walking back out the room, expecting him to follow.

“Oh, I… okay..” Marco drank down the rest of his wine, grabbed the last bread roll and strode after the short man, his long legs allowing him to catch up with little effort.

“You ready?” Levi asked without looking up at Marco.

“As I’ll ever be.” He replied, wringing his hands slightly in front of him as they left the mess hall and entered the cool courtyard. The wind was sharp, stinging his Marcos’ eyes slightly as they squinted against it. The air was icy cold, the edge taken off by the sun that had burnt its way through the morning mists, shadows from the arena just starting to creep across the cobbles.

 

Marco stood in the middle of the arena. Armin, Annie and Levi standing opposite him.

The stands were already filling up and a low murmuring filled the air around them.

“Tch, let’s get this over with,” Levi said, “I’m cold.”

Annie cast her eyes sideways at the shorter man, while Armin simply smiled, his usual pleasant smile. The smile he used in public, because public opinion mattered to him. Not because he was scared of an uprising if he wasn’t liked, but because the people were simply tools as means to an end for the young King. Ambitious was definitely a word used to describe him.

Armin nodded at Annie who stepped forward, the murmuring stopped, silence falling over the three in the centre. Behind Annie, Marco saw Reiner, Berthold and Ymir enter the arena, weapons hanging off their hips.

Annie put her hands on either sides of Marcos head, “Close your eyes, steady yourself.” Marco did as he was told. It was no secret that Marco had a huge amount of power locked away; it was rumored that he was on par with Annie in terms of magical ability, but he had seen her fight, and doubted that. He felt a sharp pain pierce through his temples, before the pain was replaced by a slight tingling sensation behind his eyes. He felt Annies’ hands leave the side of his head, and he opened his eyes, blinking a few times.

Marcos’ magic was built up around his ability to fight. With his restrictions removed the world seemed clearer, his ability to anticipate movements seemed to slow everything down. The slightest movements of others around him were punctuated. He smiled, just as a wave of dizziness hit him.

“Thanks, Annie.” Marco spoke clearly despite holding his breath slightly. She stepped away from him as Levi came closer and took Marcos’ arm to steady him.

“Careful, can’t have you hurting yourself before we start,” Armin was facing Berthold but talking to Marco who swayed unsteadily on his feet, the headrush caused by his magic threatening to topple him over, if it weren’t for Levi.

“It’s time.” Armin started to walk out of the arena, but after two paces he vanished and appeared in his stand, standing in front of his throne. The audience cheered. Armin knew how to put on a show, and today was no exception.

He raised his hand to silence the crowds, the arena was full, just as Ymir had said it would be.  Levi let go of Marcos’ arm and the group of knights started to walk towards the stand, Marco standing in the middle.

“Thank you everyone for coming today to bear witness to todays event.” He looked down at the knights now kneeling in a line before him. “Today my knights challenge one of our newest squad leaders, in order for him to gain a position within my kingsguard. An honor extended only to those strongest, and willing to dedicate their hearts to me.”

Marco swallowed hard. This had been practiced. He stood up and turned around, facing the rest of the arena, his back to the king as he saluted the stands. One had behind the stands, the other hand fisted over his heart.

The audience reared up and cheered, the kingsguard all stood, and saluted the king before the group headed towards the centre of the ring. Marco stopped in the centre, the other knights walking to form a ring around him for the first challenges.

His heart was beating in his ears, as he focused on the King. Marco drew his sword and took up his stance. Levi, Berthold and Reiner did the same in front of him. Annie and Ymir were standing behind, he focused some magical energy in their direction in order to read their movements without having to look.

Armin raised his hand once again before dropping it down to his side, “Begin.”

 

 

Marco pulled his sword out of the spectral corpse, a piercing shriek ringing in his ears, the blood turning to a thick ash and coating the blade. He swirled around, his hand shooting out in the direction of another apparition, causing it to evaporate instantly. The audience cheered. He had bested every apparition summoned up for him in his trial so far, the five members of the kingsguard surrounding the edge of the area, eyes closed in concentration as they summon up one spectral being after another. Marco could feel the magic in the arena getting stronger, the longer the trial went on for and intensifying for the finale; there would be plenty of magic to call upon should be need it.

With the last spectre dead a silence fell over the arena. Marco used the lull to catch his breath, the exertion beginning to take a toll on his body in the bitter cold. He regretted not wearing more layers under his armour, the cool chill of the metal sinking into his skin. His eyes scanned the audience, many of the friends he had made in the army had turned up to watch, as well as what looked like the majority of the city. Knights trials weren’t a common occurrence, but were always a good show.

Marco looked away from the stands and back to the five knights now standing before him. All magic restrictions were removed prior to entering the arena, and now five sets of shining blue eyes were boring into his. Marco was yet another anomaly amongst the kingsguard. With his magic restrictors removed his eyes seemed to absorb light, his pupils dilating to a point that engulfed his entire eye, a literal black hole.

He took a deep breath and readied his sword, gripping the hilt with both hands and steadying his feet into the dusty arena floor. The knights before him all followed suit, he had to beat all five. The challenge being to incapacitate only, killing was not allowed and the penalty was death. King Armin stood up from his seat in the stands with one arm raised. His black gold crown contrasting starkly with his blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The arena fell silent and Marco could hear nothing but his own breathing until Armin dropped his arm down to signal the start. The audience reared up, their shouts thundering around the arena walls as the kingsguard moved to surround Marco on all sides.

He focused on Reiner and Berthold first, their swordsmanship the only ones he was accustomed too, they also lacked any strong magical ability to combine with their attacks making them the weakest in the arena.

Reiner swung first, heaving his sword above his head, almost sliding towards Marco, kicking up the ashen remnants and dust as he moved. Like Marco, he was the only other fighter in the arena to have forgone wearing his cloak today. Reiner lunged, Marco parried with his own sword, the impact causing the two sets of steel to sing as the vibrations shook along the blades. Within a fraction of a second, Berthold swung his sword into Marcos left side. Berthold was taller than Marco, and used a light blade, making his attacks faster than Reiners. Marco sidestepped whilst Berthold swung again, causing Marco to block with his arm. A normal attack would have cut his arm off mid-way, but Marco blocked with an invisible bulwark, a sharp purple light shimmering off the point of impact into the shape of a shield upon his arm. Marco was extremely agile and was able to continue dodging both mens attacks. Ducking and dodging around the arena, both Reiner and Berthold begun to grin. Marco had become their favourite sparring partner in the past 3 years. The two knights swung in unison, causing Marco to step backwards once again. He had taken his magical barriers down temporarily to avoid depleting his magical stores before he fought with the magicians.

He didn’t notice someone step into his personal space from behind.

Levi was short and even more gifted with natural agility than Marco. He used two short blades, lunging both to where Marco should have landed after his back step; Marco felt one of the blades catch the side of his back before using a basic teleportation spell. Teleportation magic in battles was still new and unrefined, all spells leaving leaving a ghost portal for a few seconds afterwards, allowing other magic users to enter and follow the route.

Marco reappeared at the space Levi had originally occupied at the start of the fight. The audience cheered and booed as Levis’ blades struck into the dust while Reiner and Bertholds’ blades met with a loud crash. Marco smirked. All three had stepped into the place Marco had been standing, carried by the momentum of their attacks only to be caught in an entrapment spell Marco had placed between the rounds.

Vicious black vines crept up their ankles and legs, rooting them in place. Levi managed to break free, Berthold moving in the same way to untangle his feet. Reiner groaned, his sword fell to the ground as the vines grabbed his wrists and arms, wrapping around his torso pulling him into a kneel. The audience erupted once again, Berthold smiling down at Reiner who winced as the vines dragged their thorns across the gaps in his armour, scraping lines into his skin.

Marco used the pause in the battle to fortify himself, healing away any ache and bruises before bolstering his own magical shields. He kept his gaze intently on Berthold and Levi, both of whom were walking in his direction, swords ready. Marco noticed a spark of light behind the approaching men a second too late as his shield was assaulted with magical bolts, almost causing him to lose balance.

The bolts hit hard and fast. Four, five, six. Marco could feel his shield faltering, the ninth bolt making contact with his armour, knocking him backwards.

Marcos concentration faltered as he hit the ground, allowing Reiner to break free from the snaring vines. He swept up his sword and grinned in Marcos direction, approaching his now prone target to join the others surrounding him. Marcos bones were vibrating with the sudden impact of black magic, his vision was darkened by the blow as he blinked the darkness away and looked up at the sky. Time always slowed for him when he fought, his senses heightened allowing him to move his body more freely and accurately. A gift he was thankful for.

His body buzzed and ached. Flexing his legs, he pulled his knees up slightly, moving into a sitting position, leaning on his elbows. His sword had landed a few feet away behind him and he edged towards it, not looking away from his approaching targets. Ymir and Annie had been the ones to disarm him, now approaching him to stand near the three swordsmen.

Marcos brain kicked back in as he reached for his sword only to have his fingers crushed under a small boot.  

“Tch, nice try.” Levi snarled down at Marco, his face was scratched on one cheek where the vines had caught him, while pressing Marcos hand further into the dust. Marco grimaced at the pain, his fingers definitely all broken to various degrees as Levi shifted his foot around with increasing pressure. Five sets of eyes bore through him but none of the other combatants made a move. Watching him expectantly, baiting him into making the first move.

He had failed, Marco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he had trained hard the last three years, harder than anyone else. He fought for a purpose and a meaning as to why he was still alive. He fought for answers, he had so many questions. questions that wouldn’t be answered until he passed the test. Images and memories flashed through his mind, one sentence screaming louder from the jumble than any other noise inside his head.

_I know where you got your sword._

The sentence had haunted him, while he was awake and in his dreams, he desperately wanted to know where his sword came from. Where he came from. He wanted to remember himself. All that stood between him and the answers he seeked, were five knights.

Steeling his resolve he opened his eyes. Using a small amount of magic he casually flipped Levis foot off of his hand, and reached over with his other arm for his sword, managing just in time to block another strike from Reiner.

“I thought you yielded?” Marco chided, eyes flashing at Reiner as he pushed back against him causing the bigger man to stumble back, allowing Marco to jump up.

“I only dropped my sword” Reiner retorted, “your vines got me good”. Marco could see scratches all over Reiners exposed arms, and neck and face and imagined there would be many more across his torso where his armour jointed.

Berthold struck out this time, Marco managing to parry “Come on Marco, fight us properly.”

Berthold pushed down harder. The man was stronger than Marco, and could easily overpower him if he wasn’t careful. The point of Bertholds sword was getting closer and closer to Marcos neck and he struggled to hold him back with his other arm. His sword hand was smashed and he was unable to heal it and still have enough magic left to defend himself with. Berthold feinted pulling away before slashing his sword back down with a speed that should be impossible for someone of his height. the shrill screech of metal scratching through metal rang through the arena. Marcos chest erupted in pain, stinging from the impact and his eyes closed momentarily from the pain. He stumbled backwards, a flood of warmth filling the inside of his armour.

Everything went quiet. Marcos pulse was racing inside his head once again, the silence surrounding him, enveloping him like a darkness he was unable to deter. Marco slowly opened his eyes.

There were no longer five sets of eyes staring at him. No one standing near him, swords ready to attack him off guard. He sat up. Looking around him, there were now six others in the ring with him. A set of cold, blue eyes and shining blonde hair were moving towards him through the settling clouds of dust. Marco tried to stand but his legs were numb, causing him to fall back to his knees as he looked around him.

The ground was cracked, lightning shaped scars radiated from a central position underneath his feet, running outwards to the edges of the arena, and to the bodies of his friends.

Ymir and Annie were the first to recover, sitting up slowly, still dazed from something. Everyone had been thrown fifty yards backwards away from Marco, dust now covering their armour and cloaks. Armin walked straight between them, a crooked grin on his face, eyes locked onto Marco.

Marco could hear the others starting to shift and groan around him, the audience still silent. Despite desperately wanting to check that they were ok, he couldn't break away from the kings gaze. He felt a familiar fear welling up inside of him, an ice cold presence affecting him from the inside. Armin stopped in front of Marco, staring him down as the kingsguard shuffled and made their way behind him. Levi was limping on the leg that Marco had flipped him away with, leaning slightly on Berthold, whose arm was hanging limply at his side, blood dripping out of his gauntlets. Reiners head was covered in blood, dripping from his hairline down the right side of his face. Ymir and Annie seemed unharmed, but still dazed.

Marcos eyes opened in the realisation that he nearly killed them.

“Well Marco,” Armin started. Still staring, blue eyes locking onto brown. “What was that?” The king was no longer wearing his crooked grin and was instead staring with all the intent and malice he could muster. Marco shook his head and swallowed audibly. He didn’t know.

“No?” Armin tapped his foot. Ice slowly starting to form under his feet. “Then what is that?”

Armin was now looking directly behind Marco. Marco glanced at the others behind Armin, all of them were staring behind him. Marco took a breath and turned his gaze.

“Uh..” Marco started to speak, but found no words as he turned and looked behind him. he didn’t see anything at first, turning back around, his expression confused and lost.

Eyes were still boring into the space directly behind him. He turned around and drew a sharp breath. Hovering behind him, slightly away from his back, were two sets of spectral wings. The magic feathers glowing. Marco looked over his other shoulder. Definitely wings. One white. One blue.

Marco glanced back at the king. Armins face was now lit up with an expression he had never seen him wear before. Despite his eyes being narrowed and cold, Armin was grinning.

* * *

 

Erwin stared into the scrying bowl, a scowl lining his features, as he blindly reached for one of the books on his desk. Mike sighed and passed Erwin the book he was reaching for. The three archmages had been watching the events in Sina unfold through the scrying waters.

Hanji walked over to the window and opened it, allowing a cold breeze to enter the stuffy room. Walking back over to the desk, they plopped down into their chair with a heavy exhale. Erwin placed the book open, and looked at the others, his face expressionless.

The book was open on a page about ancient dragon magicks. Two wings were sketched onto the pages, one blue and one white, crossing over each other. Mikes eyes scanned the text, trying to translate the ancient script. He looked up at Erwin, Hanji gasped.

“Does that say….” Hanjis voice trailed off into silence, hand falling to the title and subtext above the illustration. Erwin nodded slightly and stared back into the bowl. A pair of bright blue eyes met with his. Erwins entire soul was on display to the King now staring back at him through the cold waters. Erwin swallowed hard as Armin stared back with a quick smirk, before the waters went clear and the image disappeared.

“Titans” Erwin started, speaking slowly, voice measured and sure, “and the arrival of the dragons.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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